Action: Planet: OTA

[burnstoohot]

Who: Fëanor [AND OPEN]
Broadcast: N/A
Action: SS Bloodsport, the planet
When: Throughout first half of July


Bloodsport: Open to crewmates or visitors!

It was far too easy to get caught up in putting his new knowledge to practical use. Fëanor would spend hours (sometimes days) at a time in the engine room, poking at this or that. Taking one thing apart only to put it back together in a way that he felt would enhance function or appearance, depending on mood. The elf would forget, as had always been an issue, to care for himself when his interest was roused.

Anyone care to drag him out for food or rest? Even a walk around the ship?


Planet: OTA!
Forest
Trees and nature always called to the hearts and minds of elves. Fëanor was no exception, though he far preferred actually working in forges, making new things than out and about. It made little difference though, as he'd been cooped up in various ships for longer than he was used to staying in one room. And with such a world to explore as this, how could he refuse the chance to get outside? Breath fresh air again, feel dirt and earth under his feet and life all around.

Beach
When the elf came upon the water he found himself stuck, gazing out at the expanse and feeling the waves crash against him, threatening to drag him out to sea. But he always stood still, and firm, knowing how to move with it to avoid actually being swept out.


[OOC: Oooooooooooooooor make up your own prompt and we'll play! Prose or brackets, I'll match.]

Comments

[bythewaves]

Maglor sobs softly, curling into his father's arms.

Failed you

[burnstoohot]

Love!

Fëanor picked his child up just as if Maglor were still an elfling and walked a ways from the water. Only to take a seat against a boulder, setting his son down on his lap. Age meant nothing.

"I love you, yonya. You have never failed me."

Loyal sons.

[bythewaves]

Maglor has missed his father more than he has allowed himself to know, and he cannot help but respond to his fire, clinging to him in both the mental and the spiritual sense, for all that he is far too old to be needed support this way.

"We failed. We all did. I threw it away! I condemned you all to the Dark!"

Hate you. Love you. Frightened.

[burnstoohot]

Unyielding, fierce, bright love.

Trust.

Fëanor trusted his sons with everything he was. With everything he had. Fingers gently thread through Maglor's hair, seeking to give what comfort he could. To remind his son he wasn't alone anymore.

"I should not have demanded such a thing from you. From any of you!" He didn't know all the details. But he knew enough.

Acceptance. Love! Support.

[bythewaves]

"I couldn't save them, I couldn't save you, I'm always too late! I couldn't even hold it, in the end."

He clings, weeping - he's broken into so many pieces, is Maglor - he hides it so very, very well. But he cannot hide any longer.

My fault

[burnstoohot]

His embrace did not waiver. Clinging was met with another fond kiss to his son's brow. Fierce protective love answered Maglor's guilt. Fëanor even started to gently rock his son, just as he had when each of his sons were so very small.

"You are my son and I am proud to call you such. You have my love."

This? This broken self of his child? Was precisely why he wanted to go wherever he needed to so that he could take better care of his sons. Both of them.

[bythewaves]

"Don't deserve it."

He chokes out through his tears, but he buries his face in his father's shoulder and lets himself be comforted.

[burnstoohot]

He forced a hint of fond amusement into his voice. "No? But you do. You have so many reasons to hate me, and I know you do. But you also love me, for which I am grateful." Earnestness crept back in after that first word.

"You deserve to be cherished, loved, and protected. I will try to do better here." He shamelessly snuggled his son, and started to hum softly to him as he kept rocking him gently.

[bythewaves]

"Might've damned you." He confesses in a whisper, the worry that has haunted him since he was sane enough to consider what him throwing the last one away might mean.

[burnstoohot]

A stifled sigh and he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead again. "I damn myself, child." He brushed a hand over Maglor's hair, then cupped his face. "Do you not feel my love for you?" Bright and fierce, stubborn refusal to diminish.

[bythewaves]

A hiccup as he fights to control the tears and he nods, burying his head in his father's shoulder again.

Yes. Love you. Ashamed.